


Descent

by charlesworthy



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Insanity, Minor Violence, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesworthy/pseuds/charlesworthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much does it take for a mage to snap?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I run a Henry RP blog on tumblr, and a while ago there was a meme about going insane in steps. This is just a re-post of what I wrote then.

Henry always had a rampant mind.  It was hard to keep under control on some days, while others didn’t see one thought out of place.  He could compare it to the army–each with a certain place or purpose, but gods save them all during battle.  It made sense to him, because when they weren’t fighting the thoughts weren’t as nearly as numerous, but even attacking one risen would see one nagging sentence in the back of his mind, goading him to see how much damage he could really do.

So today may have been an off day; musings bubbling up reminding him that every man bled the same and Henry, don’t you like blood so much?  Chrom’s cape is white, how many wounds would it take to stain red?  You know you like the way Panne looks when she’s covered in blood.

But they were easy to ignore, because he had thought each one once before.  He managed his grin all the same, humming slightly to himself.  It was just another off day, and he knew the thoughts would leave him soon.

There was nothing wrong with a little daydreaming for now, was there?


	2. Chapter 2

Along with a surplus of his usual thoughts came the mental images of himself; in worse situations than he could ever inflict on others.  Where they used to be so comforting before–reminding him that no matter how awful the existence, there was always an end–they were disheartening now.  He had people, well, at least one person, that he didn’t want to leave.  He  _couldn’t_  leave.  He promised.  Since then, Henry had always done his best to push away the thoughts of his organs being spilled before him, or being cut open in other ways.

But right now, it was just getting worse.  He kept seeing himself beaten, battered, bruised and bloody, lying on the ground, smiling as the blood blurred his vision and he could honestly  _feel_  his life seeping into the ground around him.  

The dark mage could  _not_  continue thinking this way; or at least he tried to remind himself so.  He had people depending on him.  He had Cynthia.  He had to…

But it was so comforting.  An end.  Henry’s end.

Perhaps it didn’t hurt to keep dreaming…  After all; the fantasies were painless.


	3. Chapter 3

It was like Henry’s secret power.  Walking through camp, each glance he took to the side conjured forth unwanted images.  He could deal with them, like he always did, and he kind of liked seeing the variations his mind could come up with.

The best part was that no one had to know.  As he walked by Sumia and Cordelia chatting, he could glance over to them and see Sumia and Cordelia dead.  The brunette’s hair died with blood, and the redhead’s almost indistinguishable from the puddle around her.  As the knights turned towards Henry, his mind’s eye turned it into them pleading for help.  And he could imagine outstretching a hand.  He could help them with that singular gesture, and with two more words he could kill them.

He hummed happily.  They would never know what he was thinking, unless he did it.  …Could he?

A tempting idea, but he passed for now, offering the women a giggle and a gentle wave.  It was his secret, and sometimes secrets could be so empowering.


	4. Chapter 4

It was almost like he couldn’t help himself.

He always had a thing for killing, but he usually contained this ‘thing’ to the enemy.  Occasionally he would get an itch, but it was easily forgotten when he went into the forest or took his mind off it by speaking to the crows or any one, really.

As the days grew on, the itch got harder to ignore.  It was constantly in the back of his mind: the thrill of knowing that his hands, Henry’s small, pale hands, could so easily snuff out something as invaluable as a life.  He was nothing, and he had this immense power, and even as he dug his index finger into the corpses’ eye, he couldn’t stop thinking about how  _he_ had the control over its life.

And he had spoken to the deer at least thrice this week.  She had no idea what he was capable of, until he actually acted.  Animals always had a way of freaking out over broken legs.  Four had been too much for the poor thing.

The dark mage giggled as a crow landed on the deer’s thigh, plunging its beak into the wound he had created earlier.

He killed, and life still went on.  The crows would never tell–they just ate.  He could trust them.


	5. Chapter 5

The body count grew higher with each day.  Henry was indiscriminate.  As his errant thoughts and unwanted visions grew more frequent and desirable, he couldn’t help but get the nagging feeling something was wrong.  But this thought was small; a tiny, dissenting voice among a sea of violence and stress and lovely crimson blood.

He was torn between the thoughts of dying and killing, and the thoughts of reaching out.  He had never really gotten this bad before, to the point where it was hard to manage, and as he stepped through the camp and to the edge of the forest, he made almost worried glances to the ones he passed.  They had no way of knowing.  They would never know.

Maybe the best thing to do was to kill them, instead of squirrels and crows and birds and…

While Henry may not have been the most social of all the Shepherds, most who knew him didn’t get the chance to see him.  He split his time between the nearby forest and his tent, only moving back and forth at strange hours.

He hoped that maybe he would meet some one who had stayed up too late, or couldn’t sleep, or something.  He could talk them into following him, and he could kill them.

No one would ever know.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been at the forefront of his mind.  How could he kill some one and get away with it?  

He wouldn’t have cared if he was caught otherwise, but he wanted some one to look at him and recognize his face.  He wanted to hear them ask why he had done this.  He’d be unable to answer, but he wanted the question to be posed just the same.

He already had a plan in mind.  He had been thinking about it  _for days_.  It would be so easy to get away with, and he was anxious to hear murmured whispers of questions of where their companion went and what if something happened.

In fact, he could almost already  _hear_ it.

Henry’s whole body seemed to be in harmony with the thought.  He understood the consequences, but that didn’t keep his heart from beating to the rhythm of ‘kill, kill, kill’.  How could he deny the very organ keeping him alive?


	7. Chapter 7

He did it.  He actually did it.

It was easy.  So easy.  All he did was feign a little curiosity, and what was curiosity to a man constantly smiling?

“Hey Maribelle,” is how it started.  "You know a lot about manners right?  Can you help me out?“

It was such a blatant lie and the blonde actually thought Henry had an interest in it.  As soon as she agreed, he laughed, and she didn’t think anything of it at all.  It was absolutely too easy to get Maribelle alone.

They had a conversation before, about Maribelle being afraid of being in pain while she died.

So he ended it quickly.  To an experienced hexer like him, it took but one simple curse to make it painless, but he got to watch all the good stages.  Doubling over, throwing up blood, glancing up at Henry with shock and betrayal plain on her face.  She croaked out a threat before finally expiring, and Henry would remember her words for the rest of his days.

Or at least until tomorrow.

Her pretty pink ensemble was now stained with her blood, as was her face and hair and… Well, a lot of her was covered in it.  How beautiful…

It was dark and late outside, and Henry had no trouble dragging her corpse to the woods.  No one ever went out that far, so they would never find her.  Just the bloodstain.  Henry didn’t even have to tell the crows that her corpse was fair game.  After he sliced open her stomach, they were all over her.


	8. Chapter 8

They didn’t know!  It was days before her body was even found.

The day after Maribelle’s death was full of questions.  None were directed towards Henry.  They didn’t want him to know.  They thought he might play with her corpse if he found it first, or laugh at their sorrows.  He laughed because he already had lived up to their expectations.

But he wanted more…  He felt that itch again.  If he was able to kill a noblewoman, who else could he kill?  A knight?  That would be easy, he’d just have to tell one more lie.  That wasn’t so bad was it?  Lying?  Henry had done worse things…

He made plans to kill Stahl.  It would be so easy, just like Maribelle, just like every one else would be.  He couldn’t wait.  All he could do was laugh and smile.  He couldn’t remember smiling so hard–thinking about killing, thinking about killing again and again and again, until the whole camp was dead…  It was such a wonderful thought.


	9. Chapter 9

“Henry!”

He turned, hovering over a poor effigy to the green cavalier.  His hands clenched around it, squeezing it tightly as his knuckles turned white.  They had entered  _his_  tent.  It was his personal space.  What right did they have?!

He asked himself that question before he asked who they were.

Before he could vocalize anything, however, an armored hand had grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him to his feet.  The dark mage grasped at Frederick’s arm, trying to break free, but he also knew the futility in the attempt…

“Easy, Frederick.”  That was Chrom’s voice.

Henry giggled.  ”Hey, what is this?” he asked.  ”Did you  _Chrom_  to take me away?  Nyahaha!”

The dark mage didn’t really expect a laugh, but the groan that sometimes accompanied his horrible jokes didn’t come either.  Instead, he was gently let down before being roughly moved, so that he was standing between Chrom and Frederick, with the knight holding his hands behind his back.

“You…” Chrom started.  Something about Henry’s smile must have unnerved him more than usual.  "You killed Maribelle, didn’t you?“

"Sure did!”  The words seemed to tighten Frederick’s grip on Henry’s arms.  The dark mage only let out a laugh in response, and Chrom stepped forward, brandishing a strip of cloth before tying it tightly around Henry’s face—effectively gagging him.  When the dark mage tried to ask what it was for, he found himself unable to make any articulate sounds.

Chrom let out a groan, turning away from Henry and Frederick.  He didn’t know how to deal with this–between wanting revenge for Maribelle’s death, and still wanting to hold some trust in one of his comrades…  Frederick had suggested immediate action be taken, after a profuse apology that he had failed to detect what should have been an obvious threat.

The exalt wanted to agree with Frederick.  The man had, before Robin, been (for the most part) accurate in most of his judgments.  Chrom couldn’t fault Frederick for not catching Henry before this happened… After the Plegian dark mage joined their little troupe, every one had been distracted with Lucina’s truth.  They didn’t pay him a close enough mind.

It was on Robin’s direction that they were to keep him alive.  While Henry seemed anything but predictable, targeting a member of Ylissean nobility seemed to scream ‘spy’ to their tactician.  Considering the meeting they had with Plegia’s King just before meeting the dark mage, their strategist seemed like they were on to something.

Before the gag was ever removed from Henry’s mouth, he was searched.  Everything on him was confiscated.  He was a threat now, and since neither of them had any knowledge of magic or curses, they assumed even the smallest of herbs could have been used against them.

Henry wasn’t then lead to the dark tent–he was shoved, and all but thrown in.  Frederick kept a tight grasp on his hands the entire trip, even during the interrogation.

The dark mage didn’t say a thing.  What was there to say, anyway?  He tried to convince them that he had killed Maribelle for the thrill of the act in itself, but either they didn’t believe him, or they thought he had other information.  Henry just laughed.  Because he didn’t, and they were stupid, and even if his hands were being held behind his back so harshly that his arms were falling asleep, he was  _in control_.

They decided to interview him again later.   Henry was an odd case, to say the very least.  Torturing probably wouldn’t work, but maybe a few days without food, or the thought he might be let off.  Once they had anything to go off of, they’d kill him only then.

Soon enough, he was tied up and squared away.  They could focus energy on the war–not wayward dark mages.

He was unpredictable to the very end, they found.  Henry was strangely docile for a murderer.  He went along easily with their demands, and didn’t seem to be too intent on escape.  However, as Frederick had just finished binding his legs to keep him from running, the dark mage seemed to pounce for his head.

He pulled at Frederick’s hair fervently, but it was an easy task for the much bigger knight to toss Henry aside.  Once the Plegian was back in the dirt, he offered his hands to be bound too.  Though they couldn’t see his grin, they could hear his muffled laughter from under the gag…


	10. Chapter 10

Out of sight, out of mind.  That’s what Henry was.  The next day seemed almost normal with the dark mage's absence.  They were able to hold a war meeting and plan for the next march flawlessly, and the only abnormal thing about it happened as those in attendance were dismissed.

Frederick fell to his knees, unexpectedly.  He was coughing, grabbing at his neck.  When Robin and Chrom rushed to his side, there was something in the knight’s eyes that they hadn’t quite seen before.  Maybe it was fear, or abject horror, but even the simple fact that Frederick, of Fanatical Fitness Hour Fame seemed to be struggling with breathing.

It passed though, and the knight gained control of his respiration once again, coughing and staring blankly forward.  He glanced back upwards towards his superiors, readying himself to stand when he fell forward, onto the ground.  Immediately, his hands went to his sides in an attempt to pull himself upwards, but he seemed to be glued to the floor.  Nothing physical should have been hindering him, but he wasn’t going anywhere, despite himself.

Chrom and Robin each grabbed one of his arms, trying to get him upright.  It would be easy, they thought, since nothing was actually pinning him there.  But they were wrong; it felt as if they were trying to pull Frederick from under a great rock, and there was no rock, so they couldn’t simply push it off… 

They didn’t understand dark magic.  Even bound and gagged, Henry was perfectly capable of cursing.  It was a ritual.  All he needed was the motions, and the will, and the hair…

They were so stupid!  It was all too easy for the dark mage to create a simple effigy out of dirt and a strand of hair.  He was in control the whole time.

As he heard their voices yell at him from the tent’s entrance, Henry turned.  The guards that had been meant to keep him from doing anything were slumped over on the ground.  Dead or asleep; their condition couldn’t be discerned from the doorway.

The dark mage held out his arms, showing them the crude doll he had crafted from nothing but dirt.  Though his arms were bound at the wrists and elbow, it was clear that he held two of his fingers tight on the head of the tiny doll.

His muffled laughter was absurdly loud.

“What is that?” Chrom asked, turning to Robin.

Henry turned the little doll’s head to the left, and Frederick’s head, behind them, turned accordingly.  Only when Henry’s fingers left the doll did Frederick gain control of his head again.

Swords were drawn, glares being pointed at the giggling Plegian.  All Henry did was shake his head, placing his fingers once more on the effigy’s head, to remind them.

It was a stalemate.  They didn’t have to push Henry to kill.  They were probably lucky he hadn’t already disposed of Frederick.

But they couldn’t let him kill any one else.

Robin was the one that broke the silence.  "What do you want?“

It wasn’t as if Henry could answer.  His muffled laughter grew a bit louder, but he gave the answer in moving his arms to show both bindings to his captors.

"We can’t let you go,” the tactician said.  "You’ll kill every one.“

"Robin!  He has Frederick already!”

The tactician grunted.  "I know…“  But the best strategy saw the knight dead.  After that, it would be nothing to kill Henry.  As long as he held their comrade’s life over their heads, though…

"Milord,” Frederick started.  "I have resigned my life to protect you, and if it’s my life to yours and others, then so be it.“

"No.”  Chrom was resolute.  "Ungag him, Robin.  We can talk.“

To a madman?  No one said the words, but they popped in Henry’s head.  The tactician removed his gag, and they could see his wicked grin.  The first thing out of his mouth was a piercing laugh.

"AHAHAHAHA!  HAHAHA!  NYAHAHAHAHA!”

Henry pressed a thumb into his little doll, and the scene that happened earlier, with Frederick coughing and sputtering was recreated.  With Henry’s laughter over top of the knight’s suffering, it was even worse to watch.

“Unbind me,” Henry said, grinning as he pushed his thumb harder into the effigy.  "Or Freddie can choke to death!  Ahahaha!“

Adrenaline refused to let them contemplate their response.  Henry’s arms were freed.

"Let him go now!”

“Y'know, asphyxiation’s really a killer way to die!  Ahaha,  _geddit_?”  The dark mage sat down calmly, still refusing to release Frederick’s doll.  With his free hand, he started absentmindedly tugging on the binds around his ankles.  "People’s eyes get all red and almost pop out.  Victims of voodoo dolls can report crushed sternums and flattened hearts!  Ahahaha!“

Once his legs were freed, Henry stood up again.  He stepped over to Robin, who lifted their sword in defense.  It didn’t faze Henry, and the dark mage had his hand on Robin’s head.  He was shoved away, but they saw his hand carefully wrap a hair around the doll.  Giving his thumb a little push, and Robin was choking too–the only sign of magic was from the subtle movements Henry’s mouth made.  His voice was quiet enough to keep any incantation unheard.

He extended his arms in a nonchalant shrug, still pressing down on the doll.

"So now I’ve got both your friends, don’t I?  Ahahaha!  What fun!  Do you watch them die?  D'ya wanna join ‘em?  I’m a nice guy, y'know.  Wouldn’t it be nice to die at the same time?”  He laughed, stepping towards Chrom.  "All it takes is a little hair!  You’ll be off to the afterlife in no time.  How do you like it?  A broken neck?  Ooh,  _please_  tell me there will be blood!“

Chrom let out a yell, pointing his sword at Henry for a stabbing thrust.

The dark mage had little time to react, only throwing his hands in front of him in an act of instinct.  The sword pierced through his hand first; severing the voodoo doll.

Henry let out a grunt at the pain, but his grin remained.  Laughter followed.  Between the blood and the pierced doll, it was too funny!  

Chrom watched his violet eyes flicker over to Robin, then Frederick.  They weren’t moving.  They had collapsed on the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath them.

Henry laughed.

"You killed them!  Nyahahahaha!  YOU killed them!  It wasn’t me!  D-damn you!  I wanted to be the one–I wanted to rip off their heads!  Dammit!”

Chrom lunged again, piercing Henry in the torso.

Another grunt from the Plegian was heard, one that took away his grin momentarily.  It returned, as it always did, and Henry managed a wheezing laugh.

“Look at all this blood…” he said, eyes wide open and wild.  "And it’s all on your hands!  Ahaha!  Haha… Ahh…“

Everything turned red before Henry lost his sight completely. 


End file.
